


ana is no

by Lost_Elf



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Anorectic Rhys, Anorexia, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, Good (boy)friend Handsome Jack, Handsome Jack being a dumbass, M/M, Rhys has a problem, Rhys is Handsome Jack's Personal Assistant, domestic feels, no beta we die like cowards before showing this to anyone, relationship realization(?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:15:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Elf/pseuds/Lost_Elf
Summary: Jack learns that Rhys has a big problem and their first date will have to be postponed indefinitely.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Kudos: 60





	ana is no

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I'm doing.  
> This work is trash and nobody should read it.  
> I'm not the right person to write it and definitely not in the right mindset.  
> I feel like this is a crac fic. Can crac fic be serious?  
> I'm sorry for anyone who decides to read this.

Jack expected a lot from his PAs, and that was often the reason behind their early demise. It wasn’t that he killed anyone who didn’t meet his expectations. Quite the opposite. Most PAs died because Jack expected them to betray him, and his expectations were fulfilled. None of them succeeded, and each one of the traitors got acquainted with both ends of an airlock.

But for the first time in years, one of Jack’s PAs did something that the CEO couldn’t predict. He wouldn’t dare to think that in his wildest, scariest dreams. And if he did, it wouldn’t be Rhys, for sure.

Jack never expected to care for his last PA.

For many reasons.

His age was one of them. Rhys was young, and the young ones usually had ambitions, and by ambitions he means plans to kill Jack. But not Rhys. Rhys was as loyal as they get and more. He was also a giant dumbass, but somehow, he never screwed up enough for Jack to want to kill him.

Rhys was like Jack, and the CEO didn’t like that trait in people. But Rhys only took the best from him. He worked hard, he was smart and a little nerdy. They could chitchat for hours, or work for days, pulling all-nighters together to solve some issue that caught both of their attention. Rhys always made sure that they eat regularly, and the caffeine keeps flowing, and Jack draped his jacket over Rhys’ shoulders when the younger man fell asleep every now and then. Rhys did the same for him, and more.

Maybe Jack was a lost cause from the beginning. Because, admittedly, he only hired Rhys as his PA because he was pretty and funny. Would be almost a shame to kill him when it inevitably came to that, but Jack accepted the burden of future responsibility. For now, he could enjoy the dork. And he did, oh so much.

It was during the second half of the second year of Rhys working for Jack – just when the CEO accepted the plain fact that he _cared_ (a little) – that the pretty image of Rhys began to crumble. As if rotting settled in the foundations, everything that Jack knew about Rhys began to, metaphorically speaking, stink, then lean to one side or the other, and then one day, it all collapsed like a house of cards.

Jack was just enjoying his lunch and pondering over pointless questions. Lately, Rhys made sure Jack wouldn’t work while eating, truly taking the 30 minutes break that every other employee of Hyperion had, and so he had time to waste. Usually, he just planned petty revenges, hostile takeovers and cool tech demonstrations. Today, however, Jack chose a deeper topic – Rhys himself.

He’d been meaning to ask the PA out for weeks. It was against _some_ (many) regulations, but Jack made the rules, he wasn’t afraid of them. If Rhys said yes, Jack would create a loophole for them.

He already knew that the PA was single, looking for a relationship and preferred men over women. They chatted a lot. They were basically friends, compatible and _perfect_ for each other. Both smart, handsome and powerful in their own way.

The only thing stopping him from asking Rhys out was that he didn’t know where. Rhys seemed to like to spoil himself, buying expensive things often, but he didn’t seem like the expensive restaurant kind of guy. And after taking away all the expensive restaurants, Jack’s head was void of ideas. He didn’t know how to do a first date other than showing off. And he wanted to really impress Rhys.

Maybe the opposite of an expensive restaurant, then. That might do the trick, right? It would also be hilarious, they would both probably overdress, and the fact that Jack spent 20$ on their first day would be funny for weeks. The moment of surprise would impress. But how does one find a good cheap restaurant?

Maybe Jack should go for the place where Rhys usually ate. If only he knew where that was. When Rhys bought food for them both on their all-nighters, he usually went for whatever Jack wanted, and to make it even more difficult, he ate his portion on his way back, so Jack didn’t even know what he liked.

Rhys liked ice-cream, chocolate, sweets. But that’s not a dinner. He wanted to take Rhys out for dinner, so he had to remember at least one food that the PA liked. Why was that so hard? Jack couldn’t possibly be _that_ unobservant! One food, one meal, in one and a half year... Come _on_...

And that was the exact moment when the first card at the bottom of the pyramid slipped and fell. The rest soon followed.

There was no meal. Jack had never seen Rhys truly eat. He’d rarely seen him snack, and the most Rhys had eaten with Jack was some finger food at the Mercenary Day gala.

Rhys couldn’t be a robot or something. His medical records had been proven to be real many times, and Jack had even seen him bleed, bruise, break his damn nail. No, there was a much simpler explanation, the true explanation, and no amount of brain gymnastics could save Jack from the oncoming realisation.

So, he saved himself. Did so by diving right back to work. Rhys had the gall to scold him for not finishing his lunch, but Jack ignored him. He wanted to do something else, call him out on his hypocrisy or tell him that he knows the truth now. Instead, Jack worked.

He worked at night, too.

And the following day and night.

Somehow, Jack was still working the next day in the morning, but soon after breakfast, he collapsed and slept for twelve hours.

Jack had a nightmare during that sleep. He saw _her_. He saw how sick she was before… He couldn’t help her. He knew the cure now, but he couldn’t do anything for her in that dream. He could only watch her frail body wither away before his eyes and pray that the scientists find the reason why she’s dying before it is too late.

She woke up one day, her eyes unseeing. Her tiny hand flailed in the air weakly, searching for him, so he caught it and brought it to his face.

There is a startled gasp right next to him, and Jack wakes up faster than he would if it was a gunshot. He blinks rapidly, taking a few more seconds to take in his surroundings, and then he realises that he is still holding someone’s hand.

Slowly, hoping that he won’t really have to face him even though he knows who it is, Jack turns his head to look at the man next to him. Rhys’ hand is still hovering in the air close to his face, and the PA is staring at it as if it grew another finger.

Noticing Jack’s gaze, Rhys finally collects himself. “I’m sorry, Jack,” he says, clearing his throat. “I was just— Your head— I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable,” he finally expresses himself. “Sorry to wake you up. You deserve some rest after the last couple days.”

The CEO scoffs. Escaping his own thoughts was truly a task. But he doesn’t feel like he deserves any rest just yet. His eyes focus on Rhys, on every single detail that could give it away. If he finds something, a clue, he will find a solution, he tells himself.

There is absolutely nothing. Rhys is beautiful as ever, tall with long legs, in a perfectly cut suit, with hair styled back. One small strand of hair is escaping the style, and Jack had been wanting to brush it away for months.

_Shit, he is in so deep._

He _shouldn’t_. Not with what he knows.

Or maybe he should, _because_ he knows.

Fuck, why does he have to make a decision like this? Why does he always have to make the craziest, hardest decisions?

“I could eat a bullymong,” Jack says, stretching.

Rhys chuckles. The sound of his laughter is like music to Jack’s ears.

Oh God, his sleepy thoughts must never, ever see the daylight. He’s so mushy, all because of Rhys.

“Should I bring you something before I go?” the PA asks.

Jack could use it against him. _Only if you eat with me_ , he could say. Or he could take Rhys out, for a date.

But lying and pretending feels suddenly wrong.

The words leave Jack’s mouth before he can truly think about them. “I have never seen you eat.”

Rhys blinks, lips quirking into an amused expression, but his posture gains a new edge. He is in a fight or flight mode.

“Rhys…”

“That’s not true,” the PA speaks up, shaking his head. “I eat all the time.”

Jack could point out the blatant lie. _No, he doesn’t_. He doesn’t snack, doesn’t nibble on a piece of chocolate when stressed and doesn’t eat the biscuit that comes with the coffee.

“Rhys,” he repeats himself instead, standing up slowly. “Tell me the truth.”

The younger man shakes his head quickly and takes a step back. “N-no,” he blurts out, stuttering for the first time in more than a year. “I d-don’t have a problem! I-I-I used to have, but I don’t, _I don’t_ , not anymore!”

His expression is one of a hunted animal. He keeps retreating even though Jack is not moving, until he is at the top of the stairs.

“I, I’ll, I’ll just g-go, sir,” he stutters, not taking his eyes off Jack yet.

Nobody ever taught him how to deal with this. Jack searches his mind for anything, any hint, but in the end, he just repeats the PA’s name once more.

Rhys breaks down. His legs give out as if they couldn’t carry his weight any longer, and he ends up sitting on the floor, curled up on himself. “I don’t have a problem,” he repeats stubbornly, though he doesn’t sound much convinced anymore. “I don’t— Not _yet_. I w-weighted m-much less back then! I used— _I did everything they said!_ Took the— I _can’t_ have a problem.”

Jack lets him ramble and slowly walks closer. When there is only a foot of space separating them, Rhys is crying, and his words are incomprehensible. But he keeps defending himself, lying to himself.

Finally, the CEO sees the truth. Sees what stands behind Rhys’ genius, what fuels his workaholism and his sense of perfection, what supports every trait Jack likes about him. And he can’t approach Rhys like a potential date anymore.

He approaches like a friend.

Rhys chokes on his sobs when Jack crouches next to him and hugs him. After a moment hesitation, he hides his face in the CEO’s neck, crying in earnest over his own misery.

He doesn’t talk anymore; all lies are futile now. He didn’t make _a few mistakes_. He doesn’t weight nearly _enough_. He is not _healthy_. He doesn’t eat _enough_. He stopped following the doctor’s orders long ago, creating more and more loopholes in the rules until they lost their meaning.

He is in a big problem and sobbing into Handsome Jack’s collar.

“Rhysie,” Jack speaks softly to him, which is something rare, Rhys would like to store the soft-spoken word into his memory, like any other intimate moment they had. But he can’t. His head is spinning and heart beating too fast.

“Rhysie, look at me.”

Rhys would laugh, because everything coming from Handsome Jack’s mouth is an order. And he is breaking it and still not dead. Jack’s hands are on his back, not his neck.

“Look at me, Cupcake…”

The extra layers of clothes feel heavier than usual when Rhys finally brings his body to move. He pulls away, looks at his boss through teary eyes.

Jack gives him a weak smile. What he says is confusing, and as much warming as disconcerting.

“I won’t let this be the end of the story. I’ll make sure you get over this, okay? I won’t let it go that far…” Before the younger man can even begin to try to understand, Jack continues. “You’re getting three months paid leave starting by tomorrow. You can pick a clinic of your choice.”

Rhys’ head makes a dull thump when it falls against Jack’s shoulder. _This shit again_. That’s… _That’s bad_. But he can’t help but feel a little warm on the inside. Jack is not angry. He is going to make sure that Rhys is alright.

* * *

* * *

Jack doesn’t recognise Rhys when he first comes to visit him. He almost goes on a killing spree, thinking that Rhys isn’t getting the care that he needs. But no, the reason why he looks so much worse is simple.

Only one layer of clothes wrapped around his skin-and-bones body, no make up hiding the bags under his eyes, no cotton wool filling out his cheeks. He sees what is left of Rhys after years of carefully denying himself what his body needed.

The CEO makes a point of not discussing work with the PA, even when Rhys threatens to go crazy with boredom.

They talk about everything but work and the illness. The name, as Jack soon learns, must not be spoken. That’s alright, as far as he is concerned. He is not Rhys’ therapist; he is his friend.

* * *

* * *

Scratch that. Jack is _not_ Rhys’ friend, that… That’s not how it works. Friends don’t do what they do.

Jack’s internal moment of panic almost causes him to waver in his steps, which is awkward and dangerous on the stairs. He schools himself, fixes his eyes on the destination – the private elevator. The man sleeping in his arms doesn’t even stir.

They make it into the penthouse without collapsing, physically or metaphorically. Jack starts talking to Rhys in the elevator to wake him up gently and then helps him get changed for bed. Rhys looks _lethally_ adorable in his fluffy pyjamas, especially with ruffled up hair and half-lidded eyes.

Rhys is in Jack’s bed.

_Not for the first time._

Jack has another minor internal crisis when he realises that, because he just… didn’t notice before. Does that make sense? It just kinda… happened on its own. The more and more frequent visits, Rhys moving in, sleeping in Jack’s bed…

Oh damn, Rhys is Jack’s boyfriend, isn’t he?

Shit, he shouldn’t be making realisations like that at one in the morning.

He shouldn’t be _scared_ by the realisation.

He wanted this. Still wants it. He wants Rhys.

“Jack?” the younger man speaks, standing up from the bed and paddling over to the CEO. He wraps his arms around Jack’s shoulders and asks: “Everything okay?”

Is everything okay? It’s more than that. It’s perfect!

Words can’t describe it, and so Jack leans down and kisses _his boyfriend_ gently on the lips. “Everything’s great,” he murmurs when they part.

Thinking about it, he should really have realised sooner. They _kiss_ , quite often. They… do things that friends don’t usually do.

“Come on, you’re falling asleep where you stand,” Rhys gently reprimands him. “Let’s get you changed.”

“If you want to see Handsome Jack naked—”

“…all I have to do is ask, I know,” Rhys finishes. “You say that damn joke every time, but your decision to sleep naked like an absolute barbarian has nothing to do with me.”

“You’re awfully mouthy for someone who was asleep five minutes ago,” Jack frowns but complies when Rhys starts peeling his layers off him.

“I’d love to be asleep in five minutes, too,” Rhys retorts, flashing a smug smirk at Jack.

The CEO would like to teach him some respect, but he is absolutely powerless against Rhys. The PA has him wrapped around his little finger.

(That should probably be disconcerting, but it isn’t. Jack _trusts_ Rhys.)

“Jack,” Rhys says softly, getting the CEO’s attention one more time. His voice sounds from a different direction, lower, and Jack looks down. Rhys is on his knees, trying to free him from his pants, which he is sabotaging by not moving his legs.

“Try not falling asleep yet,” Rhys reminds with a chuckle.

“You aren’t really in a position to give orders right now,” Jack says with a smirk.

“D’you think so?” the PA raises his eyebrows at him. “I think this is the perfect position for me to give orders to the most powerful man alive.”

Rhys stands up soon, pulling Jack in the direction of the bed. The CEO follows gladly, the vision of sleep more than inviting.

Like every night, Jack curls around Rhys protectively, holding him in his arms as if the younger man could be taken away by wind if he didn’t pay attention. Rhys rests in his arms like a cat, always hogging all pillows and most of the blanket, but Jack can’t be mad. He’s always had a soft spot for Rhys. (And maybe he spends his lunches planning petty revenge and where to hide one of Rhys’ favourite socks next time.)

Jack wonders very briefly if Rhys sees what they have.

But that only makes him see that he is a fool and should have seen it earlier.

What they have now, and all the visits at the clinic, and all that Rhys daily did for Jack and Jack for Rhys back when they were just a CEO and his PA.

Jack wouldn’t be surprised if others saw it there before he even thought of initiating something.

“What are you thinking about?” Rhys huffs, clearly not asleep.

“That I’m a dumbass,” Jack answers, focusing on breathing more regularly.

“Agreed, now go to sleep, please.”

Rhys is exactly as mouthy as he was as a PA.

Maybe this really had been between them all along.

**Author's Note:**

> It is so damn easy not to eat. To just float in the void. I told myself that I would eat when I finish writing this. Look at me, doing it again.
> 
> Anyway, ramen awaits me.


End file.
